


Despair

by dodecahedrons



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Introspection, No Dialogue, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dodecahedrons/pseuds/dodecahedrons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despair is a thing that manifests itself in various forms. For Sayaka Miki, despair was nothing but a progressively self-destructive downward spiral - a conglomerate of every single despair on the face of the planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despair

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been feeling too great, so I figured a vent fic was in order. Please don't read if you're triggered by suicide. It's not graphic, and it's mostly describing the buildup to her suicide, but.... yeah.
> 
> I am so sorry.

Despair is a thing that manifests itself in various forms. For some people, it makes itself obvious in a grandiose unraveling of their sanity. For others, it makes itself obvious in the seventh glass of straight bourbon in their hand. Hell, for some people it's shown in manic happiness, and the inability to be bothered by anything until their immediate end.

For Sayaka Miki, despair was nothing but a progressively self-destructive downward spiral - a conglomerate of every single despair on the face of the planet, it seemed. Nothing could save her. She was too out of reach of any possible sense of the reality she was living.

She would crash and burn with the best of them, but she would leave more than a mark on a few people.

Sayaka was currently ambling through the streets, a derranged grin on her face that would certainly drive any passerby away had there been any in this part of town at this hour. She was walking forward as best as she could, her focus set not on what was directly infront of her, but rather at her final destination far off in the distance.

Her soul gem dangled loosely from a laniard attached to a belt loop on her shorts, hitting against her leg every step or so. The bleakness of the blue was obvious to anyone looking on at her - if they could see the soul gem, that is. The darkness was more obvious than the blue anymore. Any onlooker would have mistook the gem for a shiny ebony rather than a deep sea blue like it should have been.

Her despair, visually manifested in the form of a horrific gradient, was only continuing to grow as she made her way toward her destination.

The part of town she was in had several buildings bordering skyscraper currently under initial construction. The downtown area was full of scaffolding, and thusly, not as many people wandered the streets at night. Sayaka barely noticed the lack of people as she made her way into the downtown area, however, as she was mainly focused on her destination.

Her destination was set to be the first incomplete building she came across.

As she walked, her breathing became labored. She knew she was despairing, though she didn't care to check how fast her gem was whithering as she continued to walk. If she despaired fully - if she gave into her despair just yet - she would become a witch, and she couldn't let that happen.

She was already hurting her friends. She would rather die than have Madoka have to fight her tormented soul.

Her walking became more erratic as she neared a building that was nothing but scaffolding and minor flooring. She jumped the chain-link fence that clearly stated to stay away and stumbled toward the staircase in the center of the structure, her pace speeding to a light jog almost as her foot hit the first step.

Release was so close.

Her legs began to ache, and little did she know her gem was almost completely black. The inky despair was mingling with the last remaining shred of her sanity, strangling any rational thought she had left.

And as she neared the final flight of plywood stairs, her fate was set in stone.

She stood atop the incomplete building, staring out at the rest of the city infront of her. The toes of her shoes held off the end of the building, resting on nothing but the hundreds of feet of air below them. She felt her pocket for something, feeling a folded-up piece of paper wrinkle underneath the fabric of her shorts, her fingertips pressing into her thigh as she took a breath.

Her breathing hitched for a second as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She started to back up off the ledge-- what was she _doing_? She had hope for a split second that maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she could still be saved.

A sharp pain in her chest told her otherwise.

She stumbled, trying to avoid the edge. She didn't want to do this, she honestly didn't. She didn't want anyone to find her body and realize she'd thrown herself off a building. She didn't want to be a suicide victim.

But what other choice did she have? Become a witch and terrorize the city? Kill innocent people? Possibly kill her friends?

She fell to her knees, gripping at her head, pulling at her hair. She was sobbing now, freeing a hand to pound at the splintery wood below her. Wood shavings dug into her bare shins as she sobbed, doubled over onto her own legs, forehead pressed against the ground.

Fuck, her body was killing her. Was this it? Was she really going to become a witch ontop of this building? She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She stood up and looked around, noticing a bag of supplies near the steps from which she came. She stood, regretably, and forced herself to walk over to it. She needed to find a marker, she couldn't let go without getting her last words out there. What kind of construction worker would have a bag without a marker, anyway?

She found one. It was a regular black sharpie, and it was perfect.

She uncapped it and painstakingly bent over to write on the bare plywood flooring. She walked as she wrote, making big strokes, her letters shaky but still understandable. As soon as she was done writing, she didn't give herself time to think. She ran toward the ledge, marker still in hand, and threw herself off.

And as she fell, she turned to face the night sky and smiled as all of her thoughts numbed.

* * *

The next day, news anchors swarmed the scene as Sayakas body was found and removed. Police investigated the scene, searching for anything left behind -- apparently the note in her pocket was no longer there, so they needed to see if it fell out anywhere.

As part of the search team neared the top floor of the building, someone noticed the rushed writing on the ground. And the one who noticed stopped. And read. And ran down the flight of stairs without any words. The rest of the search team he was part of walked toward the message he'd found, stopping to read it, and paling as soon as they had done so.

Sayaka's final words, written in the shakiest, largest handwriting she could manage, were front-page news that morning.

_I was stupid. So stupid._


End file.
